


No Rules in Love and War

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Injuries, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: Ilsa gets hurt and Ethan worries. It doesn't help that she doesn't seem to take her injury seriously at all.





	No Rules in Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> This little quicky (hehe, sorry) is the result of a conversation I had with stuckinreversemode over on Tumblr last night. Thanks, Cori!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Ps.: Thank you for all of your encouragement and feedback on my previous fics. It means the world to me. You guys rock! <3

“Hold still, please,” Ethan grumbled and grasped her naked ankle a little tighter, while Ilsa bit her lip and tried not to fidget. It lasted for about five seconds, before his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot on her calf and her leg jerked again. 

A giggle escaped her lips.

Ethan sighed in annoyance and glanced up at her from his perch on the small stool before her. “Can you please take this seriously, Ilsa?”

“I’m trying, I swear!” she gasped, doing her hardest to suppress a grin from spreading across her lips at his antics. “It’s not my fault you’re so good at finding all of the right spots.”

His lifted an eyebrow at her and stated drily, “There are no ‘right spots’ on a twisted ankle!”

“Obviously there are, because it tickles like crazy.”

He muttered something unintelligible in the direction of her foot and continued wrapping her ankle with the bandage he had found in a drawer somewhere. His fingers lightly trailed over the sole of her foot in passing and another bout of giggles left her throat. She grasped the edge of the table she was sitting on more tightly and tried to keep still. “You did that one on purpose,” she accused, after she had caught her breath again, her own eyebrow raising in fake reprimand.

“I absolutely did not.”

“Uh huh,” she hummed, and deliberately placed her other foot onto his lap in retaliation, toes digging into the flesh of his thigh lightly.

He twitched and her grin grew wider. 

“Stop it,” he warned, still concentrating on finishing wrapping her ankle.

“I’m not doing anything,” she replied innocently.

Her foot slid further up his leg a few inches. The hand on her ankle began to shake slightly and he grasped her calf even more tightly. 

Ilsa’s smile grew slightly predatory. 

If Ethan had been a lesser man, he would have gulped and probably fled. As it stood, he just swallowed lightly and hurried up with the finishing touches of her bandage. The next few moments passed in silence and he started to relax, the worry of seeing her hurt during their daily sparring session, and the resulting need to take care of her, finally falling off his shoulders a little.

And then there was her teasing, the little vixen. 

Just as he thought he would make it through this whole ordeal unscathed, she went in for the kill. Her foot traveled the last remaining distance up his lap and settled against his crotch with a deliberate caress. 

In a move that he would later make her swear did not happen, he yelped and stumbled to his feet, almost making her injured foot bump against the table’s leg in the process. 

The stool tipped over with a crash, almost drowning out Ilsa’s amused laughter. 

The noise got the attention of their friends in the next room, and a second later, the door crashed open and the other members of their team filtered into the room, alarmed.

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

“Everything all right in here?”

“Fine!” Ethan squeaked and he hurriedly cleared his throat, while stooping over to scoop up the stool and set it back on its feet. 

Ilsa was still chuckling merrily, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Ethan did a really good job on my ankle, is all,” she said, proudly holding out her wrapped ankle, as if to let them see his handiwork for themselves. 

Benji, Brandt, and Luther exchanged confused glances, before shrugging and silently deciding to better not question their antics any further. 

The door clicked shut behind them and they vanished just as quickly as they had arrived. 

“You’re evil,” Ethan glared at her, a light blush gracing his cheeks, which Ilsa found immensely attractive.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Ilsa shot back. She smirked at him and flipped her lose hair over her shoulder, before slowly sliding off the table, cautiously testing out her ankle. Deciding it wasn’t too bad, she pushed away from the table and limped over to Ethan, her hands gliding over his shoulders and linking behind his neck, as she came to a halt in front of him.

His hands automatically settled at her hips, as if they’d never done anything else. He pulled her against him gently, their chests pressing together. “Last night we were alone and you weren’t hurt, you tease,” he admonished her lightly, and she smirked again. 

Leaning forward, she whispered against his lips, “We’re alone now and I guess you’ll just have to be mindful of my life-threatening injury.” 

He growled and bridged the last remaining gap between their lips. Scooping her up into his arms, she quickly closed her legs around his hips and let him carry her back to the table. He was already half hard against her and she moaned against his mouth, pulling him even closer against her hips. 

Ilsa decided she should tease him more often, if this was what it resulted in.

 

*

 

“I have a feeling we should all invest in some earplugs, or we’ll never get any sleep ever again,” Luther grumbled, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. 

Benji looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about? I slept like a baby last night.”

Brandt huffed an incredulous laugh at his friend. “You’re telling me you didn’t hear them last night?”

“Hear what?”

“Really, Benji? They were going at it for hours! I have no idea how Ethan does it, to be honest. It’s not like he’s twenty anymore.”

“Wait, wait,” Benji gasped, eyes wide. “You’re telling me they had sex last night?  _ Here _ ? In this tiny safe house?!”

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know?” Luther asked, in awe of his friend’s deep sleep.

“And….you think they are...you know... _ right now _ ?”

“I really don’t want to think about it too hard, my guy.”

“Right. Yeah, me neither. And they wouldn’t, right? I mean she’s hurt, and-” he said, just as a female moan filtered through the door. A moan that absolutely did not sound like the result of a painful injury.

They all shared a slightly panicked look and, as one, grabbed their jackets. In less than a minute, they had fled the safe house in exchange for a safer place outside. 

Safer, at least, for their mental health. 

 

~fin

  
  
  



End file.
